No Love Without Forgiveness
by The Blue Raven
Summary: Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when you’re Sherlock Holmes and the man you know you’ll never see again just happens to be Jack the Ripper. The Five is falling apart and James Watson thinks the nightmare is only beginning. Druitt/Watson, minor M


**No Love Without Forgiveness**

**Summary:** Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when you're Sherlock Holmes and the man you know you'll never see again just happens to be Jack the Ripper. The Five is falling apart and James Watson thinks the nightmare is only beginning. Druitt/Watson, minor Magnus/Druitt, unrequited Watson/Magnus

**Rating:** PG-13/T for drug use, talk of abortion, slashiness

**Author's Note:** There actually _is_ a basis to a lot of the suppositions I'm making here. My reasons are all down at the very end of the fic because the list too long to put up here. You can scroll down and read it now or read it after the fic. Or not at all if you don't really care. Oh, except I _will_ say here that I know the quote is anachronistic to the era of the fic. I don't care; it was too perfect _not_ to use.

Enjoy the fic!

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"There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love."  
-- Bryant McGill

**No Love Without Forgiveness**

James tossed restlessly in his bed, unable to sleep. The simple truth was that he had become too used to a certain form of exercise more evenings than not and it was difficult to get to sleep without partaking. But John continued to distance himself.

No, that was unfair. _Physically_, John was distancing himself, perhaps because of his engagement to Helen. Emotionally and intellectually, he was accessible as ever. He joined James every night to discuss the details of the troubling "Ripper" case. James would pour out his theories and they would review. John would demand a clarification here, make a supposition of his own there, and generally just give James a sounding board.

Then he would climb to his feet, giving his friend and lover a chaste kiss and telling him how sorry he was that James had not yet found the solution to this current problem.

"Everything will be better for us both, my dear Watson, when you understand what is _really_ happening here. The Ripper will have been stopped and all will be right with the Five again. Good luck, James. Stop the monster soon, for _both_ of our sakes."

An injunction that would haunt him for more than a century to come.

Pounding at his bedroom door jerked him back to full consciousness. "John, is that you?" he called, rising and groping in the dark for his robe. He could not think of anyone else who would come to him at this hour, unless there had been another murder.

"No, James. It's _me_!"

"Helen?" He hurried to the door, forgetting his robe. "Helen, what is it?" he demanded of the pale, shaking woman before him, taking her arms and steering her towards his bed. "Helen, what is it? Is it _John_? Has something happened to him?"

A weak nod, then a bare whisper. "James, John is the _Ripper_…"

"_What?_" he demanded, irritated. "You barge into my bedroom at this hour to make a joke like _that_, woman?"

Then he saw the small revolver clutched in her hand, the way she was shaking, her tear-stained cheeks. She was telling the _truth_. His next conscious thought was to wonder why he was on the floor and where Helen had gotten her hands on such foul smelling salts.

"Here, let's get you into bed," Helen urged, helping him to sit up.

He grasped her shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"He confessed it outright, killed a woman before my very eyes, James. I tried to save her, but…"

"Oh, Helen."

Even though he was wearing nothing but a nightshirt, he drew her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. The two sat there on the floor next to his bed for a good half-hour, weeping over the betrayal. And over what spelled the loss of their mutual lover. The John they had known was dead, killed by the Source Blood.

Helen calmed first. Well, she had obviously already taken some time to cry over all this. He let her help him into bed, but turned his back to her, abruptly resentful. She would have _wed_ John, where James had only ever been intended to be the other man's fun on the side.

Not that he _should_ blame Helen; neither one of them had expected James to start loving John. It had been unforeseen. But that didn't make the love any less intense or the pain any less agonizing. He drew his knees against his chest, almost to his forehead, and started to rock himself, needing _some_ form of comfort.

He froze when he felt Helen slide into the bed behind him, bending her body to match the contours of his and wrapping her arms around him tightly. Her body was warm against his, soft. Nothing like John's, but still not remotely unpleasant.

"Thank you," he whispered after a moment.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault."

"_Yours?_ My dear Helen, I hardly think…"

"It was my experiment that did this to him, James. We both know that. The John Druitt who took the Source Blood was no killer. _I_ released this monster into the world."

"And _I_ failed to catch him again."

"How were you to have known?"

"I should have done. He practically _begged_ me to stop him! Every night, those same words. 'Catch the killer. Make things right for the Five. For _both_ our sakes'! He said that to me every night! Every God-forsaken _**night**_, Helen!"

"James, he was _manipulating_ you. _How_ is that your fault?"

"If I were _half_ the genius I like to think I am…"

"Your heart blinded you. As it did me. There's no shame in that."

"_Isn't_ there?" he countered. He rolled to face her, grasping her shoulder. "_How_ did you discover all of this?"

"He hasn't been acting himself. He'd wake up screaming, usually complaining that he couldn't get the blood off. At first, I thought he must have been remembering some horrible beating at his father's hands, or some beating by a past lover. But then he started to be evasive with me about where he was going at night. I simply couldn't _see_ why he would suddenly start being coy about his relationship with you. Then, the other day, you made that offhand remark about how much more time he was suddenly spending with _me_…"

"And you instantly suspected him of murder?"

"Of _course_ not. I assumed there was another man. I was afraid it must be Nikola or Nigel."

James shuddered at _that_ concept. Nikola had _always_ been detestable and, since taking the Source Blood, Nigel had grown increasingly erratic.

"I _hoped_ it was one of them," she admitted. "Because I hated to think that he might have gone back to dangerous, anonymous, back-alley sex with perfect strangers just as likely to beat and rob him as they were to sleep with him."

"But there _were_ no other men?"

She shook her head. "There were _women_, James. Which was odd for obvious reasons."

James nodded. Helen was the only woman John Druitt had _ever_ been physically intimate with. And he loved her with all his heart as he readily admitted. He loved Helen and was grateful to her. He _also_ readily admitted a certain awkwardness with the female body in general. Hiring a female prostitute would _never_ be his style. Unless something had changed.

"How _many_ women?"

"Two or three a night, sometimes _more_."

James stared at her, stunned. "You _observed_?"

"As closely as I _could_. I had to _understand_." She sighed. "He was never entirely… _capable_ with any of them."

"Not capable? He was impotent?"

"As _you_ suspected the Ripper would be. And he would get so frustrated, weep tears of anger and embarrassment. If the girls were kind and understanding, he would just go on his way. If not, he might insult them, and then he'd go away muttering threats. Not that he ever seemed to _act_ on them."

"Good Lord," he whispered. What Helen was describing might easily have come from the report he had given the Yard about the Ripper's likely behavior. "But by frequenting Whitechapel so often and never causing any serious harm to the girls, he would have gained their _trust_."

"They would be more willing to go somewhere private with him, even knowing a killer was on the loose," she agreed.

"The perfect cover. A shy, ineffectual regular seemingly without a violent bone in his body. A man who just wanted to be loved and reassured."

"Almost reminds me of the man I agreed to marry," she sighed, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks.

He tenderly smoothed them away with his fingertips. "Is that how he was with _you_? Ineffectual?"

She colored, not quite looking at him. "It took some experimentation, but we eventually found a comfortable way for John. I'll thank you _not_ to ask for details!"

"My dear, Helen, I'm relative sure I don't _want_ to know."

"Probably not," she agreed, sighing.

One of the hands she had been using to hug him suddenly twitched down to her own stomach. Her eyes widened at the slip and she quickly put the arm back around him.

"Good God, Helen! Are you _sure_?"

"Not by any means," she admitted, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Under the circumstances, I can hardly in good conscience carry a child of his to term."

"Don't you think that's a little drastic?"

"I don't know _what_ I think right now, James," she admitted. "About _most_ things. But I _can't_ ignore the possibility that John's disordered thinking could be heritable."

"Just don't decide anything in haste. Discuss it with Gregory. He may have some insight or comfort to offer."

"'Father, I'm pregnant out of wedlock with the bastard child of a monster.' You _honestly_ expect me to say those words to him?"

"Well, I imagine there are more tactful variations on the same theme."

"He'll be so disappointed with me," she sighed, rolling onto her back and staring up at the bed's canopy. "As he was over my conduct with the Source Blood. As he was _right_ to be!"

"Helen," he sighed, reaching out and grasping her shoulder.

He _wanted_ to draw her into his arms, hold her tight, and never let go. The only thing that prevented him was that he honestly wasn't sure if it was his desire to be close to and comfort his _friend_ or his desire to hang on to this last connection to his lost lover.

He lay there for a moment, just lightly brushing his fingertips over her shoulder and the side of her neck, then sat up.

"Go wait in the other room," he directed. "I'll get dressed and bring you home. Gregory and the others need to hear this."

Helen nodded, sitting up. "I don't know what to say, how to _explain_."

He grasped her shoulder. "Then you just let me handle it."

"Thank you, James." She hesitated, then sighed and shook her head ruefully. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but would you mind if I _didn't_ wait outside?"

"Of course not." He shook his head. "I don't want to be alone right now any more than you. For _various_ reasons." He walked over to his armoire, pulling out clothes. "In fact, it might be best if you not be alone _at all_ until we catch John."

Bitter laughter answered _that_. She watched him dress with the same dispassionate eye she might turn on a patient. He felt a familiar pang at that. They had been fast friends since her first day of school and she had _never_ seen him in any other terms. _Never…_

Perhaps that had been part of John's appeal to him, that connection with Helen. Or perhaps it was possible to have a natural inclination towards both men _and_ women? Some German scientists and activists were starting to claim that homosexuality was something you were born to, just like heterosexuality. But where did that leave a man like James who found himself loving _both_?

The Source Blood had made him brilliant, but he was still not able to understand, let alone articulate the tangled nature of his feelings towards Helen and John. It was not just that one was a man and one was a woman and there was no sense to be had in the idea of caring for both. Their relationship to one another, what those relationships said about James' own relationship with each… They called themselves the Five but, to him, it had always been about the Three: Helen Magnus, James Watson, Montague John Druitt. _They_ were the core. Nikola and Nigel just happened to work for Gregory and fell in with them by association.

"Catching him _might_ be possible, James, but we both know that _keeping_ him will not be," Helen sighed finally.

He sighed as well, sat down next to her as he buttoned his shirt. "That had occurred to me, yes."

"I _thought_ he would let me help him. I was wrong."

"You offered?"

A nod. "He laughed in my face and punctuated his point by killing that poor girl."

"The girl," he sighed. "The police will want me once her body is discovered."

"Leave a message with your doorman that you can be found at my father's house," she advised. "There's nothing disgraceful about being at the house of a _male_ colleague at this hour. The fact that I live there as well is entirely besides the point."

"True," he agreed. "I just hope we have time to find and notify Nigel and Nikola before I'm called away. I mean it, Helen. I _don't_ want you being alone right now. If John is truly lost to reason, he might well decide to come after you next."

She shook her head. "As often as he's shared my bed, James? If he wanted me dead, I _would_ be. I saw it in his eyes. He _wanted_ me to live. To _suffer_…"

"Oh, _Helen_," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She leaned into him for a moment, then straightened and stood. "We should go now. Time is vital. The others _have_ to know that they might be in danger from John."

"Yes," he agreed, climbing to his own feet. It was a painful thought, but she _had_ to know. "Helen, now that I know for a _fact_ who the killer is…"

"I know, James." She nodded, biting her lower lip and defiantly wiping away tears. "And I _understand_. Now come on."

0101010

"Druitt?" Nikola repeated, looking equal parts disturbed and amused. Shaking his head, he poured himself another drink. "Unbelievable."

Helen was sitting in her father's arms, not crying but still inconsolable. Nigel was pacing the sitting-room, his whole body shaking.

"Is that's what going to happen to _all_ of us?" he demanded, distraught. "Is _that_ what we're going to become?"

"Nigel, there's absolutely _no_ proof that the Source Blood is dangerous to everyone," Gregory assured him.

"But it _might_ be!"

"I wouldn't worry, Nigel," Nikola drawled. "Druitt was _always_ a lunatic after all."

Helen jumped to her feet, crossed the room as quickly as if _she_ was the one who could teleport, and backhanded Nikola. So hard that him and the chair he was sitting in toppled over backwards, leaving him in a heap on the floor.

"John was _anxious_! That is _**all**_!"

"Helen!" Gregory snapped. "Control yourself, girl!"

"That's it, then!" Nigel exclaimed, wringing his hands. "This is what we're becoming? John was the _best_ of us! The man was a _schoolteacher_! Kind, _gentle_!"

"Nigel, either take yourself in hand or get _out_!" James growled. "I will _not_ have you upsetting Helen further with that kind of talk!"

"John could _well_ be an aberration," Gregory assured them. "I've _always_ maintained that the teleportation had the potential to cause his body permanent damage. In this case, the damage appears to have affected his brain. Like that Phineas Gage fellow over in America. There's _no_ indication that any of your new powers are causing you any harm at all."

"Indeed, there's no indication that all of us even _have_ powers," Nikola pointed out, raising an eyebrow at Helen. Rather than get up and right his chair, he just sat there cross-legged with what was left of his brandy.

She sneered and shook her head at him.

"Oh, Helen, it isn't your _fault_," Nikola cooed. "Even if it _does_ completely invalidate your theory that the Source Blood should have an effect on all humans no matter what."

Helen looked like she had been slapped.

"If you don't shut your mouth, Nicky, I'll hit you myself," Nigel told him.

"I'll hold him for you," James offered.

"_Everyone needs to __**calm down**__!_" Gregory shouted. "You were completely reckless and that has led to some _terrible_ consequences, but you can_**not**_ allow yourselves to turn on each other! Now, more than ever, we need to _cooperate_. We _have_ to stop John. We can't do that if we are bickering like children."

"You're right, Greg," James agreed, nodding. "We all need to take a step back here. We can worry about _our_ possible negative side-effects from the Source Blood _later_. Right now, stopping John is _everything_."

"Maybe you shouldn't be involved in this, Doctor Magnus?" Nigel asked. "I mean, it was our mistake that caused this. You don't bear any responsibility."

"I allowed 'your' experiment to happen under my nose. I _helped_ Helen obtain the Source Blood. This is most decidedly my problem as well as yours."

"Best thing might be to destroy the remaining Blood," Nigel said.

"Are you as cracked as _Druitt_?" Nikola demanded, finally climbing to his feet. "Nige, the Source Blood is _power_! Imagine everything that could be accomplished if we actually came to _understand_ its properties!"

"It has the potential to do a lot of good," Helen agreed, sighing. "But now we've seen first-hand that it also has the potential for great harm. We should destroy it."

"No," James protested, shaking his head.

"James!" she protested, staring at him in shock.

"If there is even a _remote_ possibility that the rest of us could end up like John, it needs to be preserved because understanding it is the _only_ way we're ever going to understand what's happening to us. And if we don't know _that_, we're _not_ going to know how to fix any damage."

Helen and Nigel nodded slowly when he fixed them with a questioning look, Nikola more readily. Gregory sighed and considered for some time before speaking.

"When I found out what you had done, I was so furious I nearly _did_ destroy the remaining sample. But James and Nikola are right about the good it could someday do. It's hidden under the Vampire City and not even _I_ could recover it at this point. Only the Five, working in concert, will be capable of retrieving it."

Nikola threw up his hands in disgust. "Making it _completely_ out of our reach!"

"For the time being, _yes_," Gregory agreed. "But, if we can find a way to help John…"

"John is beyond _wanting_ help, Greg," James told him when Helen looked unable to say the words herself.

"That doesn't stop us from forcing help upon him," Nigel protested. "This is _John_! We can't just _abandon_ him to this!"

"Perhaps not, but good luck _finding_ him," Nikola laughed, shaking his head. "The man could be anywhere on the _planet_ right now, or quite possibly on the face of the _moon_!"

"You _aren't_ helping, Nikola," Helen informed him, looking like she was fighting the urge to strike him again.

"What's there to _help_? It's _true_. He either keeps killing whores _**or**_ he decides that, now that his secret's out, he should kill _us_ instead." He shrugged and shook his head. "If he comes after _me_, I'll rip his throat out with my teeth. Likewise if he goes after _you_, Helen."

"I'm sorry, Helen," Gregory sighed. "If he really _is_ beyond help, there's not a lot else we can do."

"Father, if he can't teleport, he can't escape us and we can help him. You _can_ find a way to prevent him from teleporting; I _know_ you can. Something to do with his inability to teleport with Nikola as a passenger, perhaps?"

"It might have something to do with some form of electricity," Gregory admitted. "I'll see what I can figure out."

Helen threw her arms around him. "_Thank you_, Father. None of this is his fault. We _all_ need to remember that."

"So that's the plan?" Nigel asked. "We find a way to apprehend him, to keep him from teleporting, and you can _fix_ him?"

"With any luck, yes," Helen agreed, nodding firmly. "Nigel, it's going to be okay. We're _all_ going to be okay."

"There's one thing no one's mentioned," Nikola pointed out cheerfully. "And that's the police."

James closed his eyes. It had taken the arrogant bastard long enough to get there.

"If they get to him first, he's as good as dead." Laughing he added, "Or the _bobbies_ are, in which case there's a _price_ on his head. Do any of you _honestly_ think we're actually going to be able to first _find_ the man, then _subdue_ him, then miraculously cure him of his _brain-damage_?"

James and Gregory each grabbed one of Helen's arms before she could lunge. She didn't even bother glaring at the two men. She was too busy shooting daggers at Nikola.

"We kill him if we have to," James said. "_**If.**_"

Nikola leered at him. "You _honestly_ think you'll have the stomach for that, 'my dear Watson'?"

James released his hold on Helen and punched Nikola in the gut. Which was _immensely_ satisfying. _More_ satisfying was the howl Nikola let out when James kneed him in the groin on the way down. The kick to the ribs might have been excessive, but he didn't let that stop him from raising his foot for another.

Of course, the Detective from the Yard _would_ pick that moment to enter the sitting room.

"Bad time, Watson?" Abberline asked, frowning at the tableau before him.

Gregory quickly released his hold on Helen who walked up to Nikola and jerked him to his feet by the collar.

"_Get __**out**__ of my house!_" she hissed at him, shoving him in the direction of the door.

"_Not_ your house, Helen," he pointed out, sneering at her.

"Then get out of _mine_," Gregory advised quietly. "And don't come back until you're willing to refrain from that kind of unpleasantness."

Nikola shrugged and limped from the room.

"Sorry about that," James told Abberline, forcing a smile.

"I assure you, Detective, he _deserved_ worse," Magnus told him, resting a comforting hand on James' arm.

She could sometimes sooth people with just a touch or a look, comforting them out of all proportion to her actual behavior. Her gift from the Source Blood, perhaps? Pacifism to offset homicidal rage?

He covered her hand with one of his own and told Abberline, "You're looking for a man called Montague John Druitt, a former schoolteacher."

"Are you _sure_?" he asked, frowning and pulling out his notebook.

"He confessed to Miss Magnus tonight," James answered, nodding towards Helen. "Greg, is there somewhere I can talk to the Detective alone?"

"Helen, you don't mind if they use your office? Mine is _quite_ unpresentable at the moment."

A patient or specimen having to do with their work with abnormals, no doubt. Helen appeared to have reached the same conclusion. She nodded immediately.

"You know the way, James. It's unlocked."

He nodded and took her shoulders in his hands. "I don't want you alone tonight, Helen. Not for _one_ _second_. _**Promise**_ me."

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I couldn't bear to be alone tonight anyways."

"I know. I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised, kissing her forehead. "Take care of her for me, Greg."

"Always," he agreed.

"_Talk_ to your father, Helen," he urged, giving her a meaningful look.

"Of course." She smiled weakly up at him. "I'll see you later, James."

"I'll go see if I can't hunt down Nikola," Nigel offered. "Given how he and John feel about each other, _he_ probably shouldn't be alone either until this thing is over."

"Good man," James answered, nodding and grasping his shoulder. "Keep yourself safe, Nigel. And try not to worry too much. We have this under control," he lied.

"Right," Nigel agreed, nodding and leaving the sitting room.

When James and Abberline were alone in Helen's office, the Detective's first question was, "How close were you?"

"We all went to school together. We do a lot of work together, share several common goals. _Did…_"

"And now you're implicating him as the Ripper?"

"It's the right thing to do. I discussed the _case_ with John! I bear some measure of responsibility for every one of those murders." He shook his head. "John needs to be _stopped_. Women need to be _warned_."

"I'll need a full description."

"Of course," James agreed, drawing a deep breath. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"Thank you, no. But have one to steady yourself, by all means."

"Oh, this is a little more than can be numbed with mere alcohol," James answered, walking to Helen's drug-cabinet and withdrawing a vial of cocaine and a syringe. "Besides, something tells me this is going to be a _long_ night."

"That's a bigger dose than you normally take," Abberline observed as James drew it up.

"I need my wits about me."

"You aren't telling me everything."

"No," James agreed, rolling up his sleeve and finding a vein. "I'm _not_."

"Is it relevant to the case?"

"No."

"Is it relevant to the fact that your case-notes have always suggested that the Ripper is a homosexual?"

James hissed as the needle went right _through_ his vein in response to that question. Cursing, he selected another one and tried again.

Abberline waited until James had put down the needle. "Watson?"

"John is a homosexual, yes. He has a history of seeking out anonymous sex with strangers at some of the known venues. To the best of my knowledge, however, since these murders started, he has been confining himself to women."

"To the best of your knowledge?" he pressed.

"The man's my best friend, Abberline. I would know."

"This is something you've _discussed_ with him?" he asked, frowning in distaste.

"It… was relevant to the case. I… required some insight."

His disgusted expression grew more pronounced. "You always were a terrible liar, Watson…" He turned to go.

"It wasn't _like_ that!" he protested, grabbing his arm. "The man was my best friend!"

"But that isn't _all_ he was, either?"

"That bears _zero_ relevance to this case!"

"He _used_ you to evade justice and you can't even bring yourself to deny it? Peter denied _Christ_ and you can't deny a _killer_?"

"It won't change anything." He shook his head. "Listen, consider me an abomination if you want. Hell, bring me up on _charges_ if it'll make you feel better! But do _not_ turn your back on the insights you know _damned_ well I can offer you about this man!"

He shook his head. "When DI Reid finds out…"

"Reid doesn't need to know. It's _not_ relevant to the investigation!"

He shook his head shortly. "You've been compromised, Watson. There's no way you can be objective. It is no longer appropriate or desirable for you to continue consulting on this case. Good evening."

Abberline turned to go and Watson grabbed the older man by the arm, shoving him into the wall and grabbing his shirt in both hands.

"Be as disgusted with me as you want, but _**listen**_," he directed in a low voice, intentionally getting his mouth a little closer to the other man's than he might have otherwise just to further unsettle and scare him. He _needed_ to understand how serious this was. "I _know_ John Druitt. I can tell you how long he's been in the care of a doctor for his mental illness. I can describe the _character_ of that illness to you, compare and contrast it to his _mother's_ illness. I can tell you what the man _dreams_ about at night. I can tell you that after his third drink he starts weeping like a _child_ and needs to be held and consoled until he sobers up. I can tell you that thunder makes him jump, even when he knows it's coming. I can tell you that, when he's particularly distraught over something, he takes nighttime walks across the Peckwater Quadrangle to clear his head. I can tell you that there is one woman in the _world_ who he is not impotent with and that they needed to reach a special arrangement to make that happen. I can tell you his favorite butcher's shop and green-grocer, his favorite pub. And I can tell you for a _fact_ that you will not catch him unless he _allows_ himself to be caught and that there is only _one_ man he will allow to do so."

He released Abberline and took a step back, folding his arms over his chest and staring the Detective down. The other man withdrew a handkerchief from his inner pocket and mopped his face.

"Frederick, my first priority has _always_ been catching the Ripper. That has _not_ changed, I _assure_ you. I love the man, but he needs to be _stopped_."

That disgusted expression was back. "How can you love a _killer_?"

"He wasn't a killer when I fell in love with him. There was nothing like that in his nature."

"You don't just wake up one morning and decide to become a murderer."

"John _did_. Ask anyone who knows him. The old John was a gentle, compassionate man. Ask his friends, his _students_! Ask _**Helen**_!"

"Your woman?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the sitting room they had come from.

"Never _mine_," James answered, shaking his head. "Helen's never been anything to me but a school-chum."

"_Druitt?_"

He nodded. "He was a patient of hers and, later, they got engaged. That's how John and I met."

"Does she know you're buggering her husband?" Abberline scoffed.

"Of course not," he lied because there was no way he was exposing Helen to the kind of scorn _that_ revelation would bring on her. His reputation was ruined; _hers_ might still be preserved. "And he was only her affianced, not her husband."

"Lucky escape for her."

"I doubt _she_ sees it so."

"No, I imagine not."

"I would consider it a personal favor if the media _not_ find out about her connection to John. This is painful enough for her as it is."

"I'll have to ask her some questions, of course, but the papers don't need to know who she is or how she's involved."

"Thank you, Frederick."

"Okay. You come with me and we'll get a sketch and all the information you have on this… _man_ and his… _habits_. If I suspect you of keeping anything back, I'll throw you in a cell, Watson."

"I'll tell you everything," he promised. "That's the first part of my penance. Which, I assure you, I will be paying for the rest of my life…"

0101010

It was approaching dawn by the time James was finally able to return to the Magnus home. Helen was sitting in the parlor with her father, leaning into him and resting one hand on his knee as he held her close.

"I told him everything," she whispered when James entered.

"And?"

"There may be an alternative to ending the pregnancy _or_ carrying it through," Gregory told him. "A way of freezing the process in its tracks for the time being."

"That might be for the best," James agreed. "It'll give Helen time to think, to decide, to find out if we can help John."

She nodded. "It can't hurt to have some time. What about _you_, James?"

"I told the Yard everything."

She frowned. "_Everything?_"

He closed his eyes and nodded, just once. He opened them when he felt her arms around him.

"They're not going to prosecute me for homosexuality, but I'm _finished_ at the Yard. They even rejected my offer to use myself as bait."

"Will that _stop_ you?" Gregory asked.

"No." James shook his head.

"Try not to get yourself killed, son," the older man advised. "Helen's going to need your help to carry on my work."

He nodded. "I'll be careful, Greg. You should both know, I don't think Abberline plans on pursuing this angle seriously. He can't overcome his distaste at the nature of my relationship with John enough to accept that I might still be capable of being objective in the matter. He thinks I'm just a scorned lover making wild accusations."

"James," Helen whispered, touching his arm. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Helen. Abberline isn't the only detective on this case. Macnaghten thinks John looks good as a suspect." Always assuming he could stay off drink long enough to get the facts straight, but there was no need to trouble Helen with _that_ consideration, either. "Did Nigel and Nikola come back?"

"For a few hours. Then they decided to go get _drunk_," Gregory answered, frowning.

James shook his head. "That's not wise of them. Nigel is probably safe, but _Nikola_…"

"I know," Helen sighed. "And I told him as much."

"He says between the vampirism and his preexisting abilities with electricity, he's powerful enough to defend himself against John," Gregory grumbled, shaking his head.

"He'll have no luck defending himself while _drunk_," James muttered darkly.

"Ultimately, it's his life." Gregory shrugged. "We could hardly hold him here against his will."

"You _do_ realize the pair of them are probably as interested in whoring as in drinking?" he asked in disgust. "Sorry, Helen," he added.

"It's not as if I'm unaware of their proclivities," she answered, looking as disgusted as he felt. "But we _did_ manage to exact a promise from both not to go to their own homes or other known haunts alone."

"Well, I suppose that's _something_."

"Nikola's talking about returning to Croatia for the time being," Gregory added. "Or maybe visiting the United States."

"It would probably be safest for him," he agreed. "John might be capable of _following_, but he doesn't know his way around either country."

Helen nodded. "And Nigel wants to go back to West Sussex. That's it. The Five is no more…"

"When this nightmare is over, the Five will reunite," he promised her.

She shook her head. "It's _over_, James. We're back to where we were in the beginning: just the two of us and Father."

"We may still be able to get John back."

"It's _possible_, James," Gregory admitted. "But you _need_ to accept that there might not be any other option than to kill him."

"I know. I understand." He nodded weakly. "I should get home. But may I have a word in private with Helen first?"

"Of course." Gregory nodded, grasping his shoulder warmly for a moment. "We'll get through this, son. The three of us _will_ take care of this problem."

"I know, Greg," he lied, forcing a smile.

"Well, I'll leave you two, then. Be so kind as to walk her back to my office before you leave us?"

"Of course," James agreed. "She shouldn't be alone, even in the house."

"Will _you_ be safe alone?"

"I think so," he lied, nodding.

"Very well. But if you _should_ require company, or anything at all, James…"

"I know, Greg. Thanks." When they were alone, he turned to Helen. "About this pregnancy…"

She sighed and shook her head, holding up one hand. "I _know_, James. I'm only staving off the inevitable this way. I _will_ eventually have to come to a decision. I understand that, I do. I just _can't_ right now. There's no way I could trust _any_ decision I reached when I was in this much pain and feeling this much confusion and self-loathing."

"No, I know that," he assured her. "This is _no_ time to make such an important decision, Helen. I was only going to say that, if you decide to keep and have the child, I'll be more than happy to marry you."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "James?"

"Helen, you're my dearest friend. I'm going to do _everything_ in my power to preserve your reputation."

"James, that's very kind of you, but I would make you _miserable_ and we both know it. I'm just too headstrong."

"I _could_ make you happy," he assured her. "If you would only _let_ me."

"At the cost of _your_ happiness?" She shook her head. "James, no. I love you too much for that. It can _never_ be. You _must_ accept that, James."

"Because of John?"

"Because of _us_!" She hesitated for a minute, both hands over her face. When she let her hands fall away her expression was sad, apologetic. "John's shadow will _always_ be between us. It will cause you to doubt your love for me and me to doubt my love for you. We'd _never_ know if our love was genuine or merely two bereft lovers clinging desperately to the next best thing. It wouldn't be about _us_, only ever about _John_. Do you really want to live like that for the next thirty or forty _years_?"

"That sound you just heard was the rest of my heart breaking. But you're right." He offered her both hands. "Still friends, Helen?"

She took both hands and grasped them tightly, closing the distance between them and bringing their linked hands up to cover both their hearts.

"_Always_, James."

"Then I'm happy." He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Come on. I'll take you to your father's study."

"Thank you for understanding," she answered, taking his offered arm with a grateful smile.

"You're one of the few women I _do_ understand. I should hope that it goes without saying that the fact that you _allow_ me to is a great honor."

0101010

It was a good four days before James allowed himself to sleep again. He sat with Helen while she was questioned, but avoided her and Gregory afterwards, needing the time to think, to accept the unacceptable. He _did_ keep tabs on them. And on Nigel as he booked a carriage to Sussex. And on Nikola as he booked a boat for America.

Helen had been right about that much. The Five was fragmented and would _never_ reorganize. Although, considering everything that had gone wrong, maybe that was for the best. He was tempted himself to never set foot in the Magnus household again.

But how did you turn your back on a man you had admired for _years_ before you ever even got the chance to _meet_ him? Or the woman whose quick wit and easy intelligence managed to steal your heart within the first five minutes? So he paid members of their staff to keep him abreast of events and sometimes even watched the house himself.

But mostly, he just canvassed every haunt of John's he could think of, asking if anyone had seen him. Of course, no one _had_, not since the night of the last murder. Which James supposed was to be expected under the circumstances.

He spent his nights prowling the Quadrangle, which brought up memories of Helen as well as John. It was here that he first met her, the day she audited her first class. This whole nightmare had started so innocently, with James offering directions to a lost-looking young woman who, for some odd reason, was being allowed to audit _medical_ lectures…

_Everything_ that had happened followed from that chance meeting.

Helen had agreed to introduce him to her father, a man whose papers on evolution James was already a great admirer of. Introduction to Nikola Tesla, a patient of Gregory's who claimed his ability to manipulate electrical current had come from being born in a thunderstorm. Fellow Oxford student Nigel Griffin, an inventor who occasionally created specialized medical equipment for Gregory. John Druitt, Helen's first patient: an anxious man whose speed and reflexes seemed beyond those of a normal human.

They became close friends all, which was natural enough given their shared interest in the abnormal world. They spent _hours_ together every day, discussing the possibilities inherent in human evolution, debating ways to shape and direct it, artificially or naturally speed it, even.

Then Helen heard about the Source Blood, suggested its use. And they had agreed, each and every one of them. She had insisted on going first and, when it seemed to have no ill effects on her beyond causing severe pain right after injection, they injected themselves each in turn.

John screamed and begged for death before vanishing into thin air and reappearing in Helen's bedroom, presumably the one place in the world he felt truly _safe_.

Nikola's transformation was immediate and intense. _And_ violent. It had taken all three men to restrain him until Helen managed to talk him into calming down, at which point he regained human form with a blush and a "Christ, I'm _sorry_…"

Nothing seemed to happen to Nigel but, some days later, he reported that he had cut himself shaving in the morning and suddenly been unable to see his own reflection.

For his part, James had been sure his head was about to explode. Unconsciousness, when it came, was a blessing and a relief. And it lasted for three days until he woke up, his head _bursting_ with ideas and his perception of just about _everything_ radically changed. Mysteries resolved themselves and puzzles and problems laid themselves open to him. All he had to do was look, _think_. _**Understand**_…

At the time, it had all seemed a blessing, although they spent a great many hours puzzling out how and why _Helen_ was so utterly unaffected. A stronger immune system, perhaps, or a simple lack of genetic predisposition to mutate. James could not honestly remember whether it had been John or himself who had pointed out that they had all manifested responses at different times after receiving their injections and perhaps Helen was merely still in a latency period.

After a time, it seemed clear that she was _not_ going to spontaneously express _any_ new abilities and the conversation turned back to why she had not been affected. Helen started making plans to refine the serum she had synthesized from the Source Blood, ready to re-inject herself. Then Gregory found out what they had done and summarily confiscated the remaining Source Blood.

Which had seemed like the end of it. Even after the Ripper murders started…

So he spent his nights on the Quadrangle in hopes that John would show up and end this nightmare, either by killing or by letting himself be killed. Or, by some _miracle_, coming quietly and submitting to their help.

But, if John was there at all, he never approached James. The doctor/detective finally gave up. It didn't help that he knew that taking any more cocaine would be dangerous, so he was suffering a nasty case of withdrawal jitters in addition to everything else.

Throwing his hands up, he went home to try to _rest_. He had to rethink his strategy, find new places to search. But first he needed a clear mind and _that_ meant getting some _sleep_.

The tea was soothing, but he was under no illusions. It was the _morphine _that ultimately allowed him to sleep. Which was probably why he felt so disoriented when he woke. Disoriented or not, he knew full well that he was _not_ alone in his bedroom. Anyone else would have just woken him up, but John had always been the type to climb into bed and wait for James to become aware of his presence, just watching him sleep in the meantime. And, while there was no one _in_ the bed with him, he could hear breathing close by.

"John?"

The response was a shaky whisper. "That's right, James."

James closed his eyes and laid back against his pillows. "Are you here to kill me?"

"Not even if I _were_ in a state of advanced bloodlust."

James froze at the feel of John's fingers playing through his hair. Those fingertips against his scalp felt better than they had _any_ right to under the circumstances. He closed his eyes and let it happen, knowing it would be the last time and hating them _both_ for it.

"You _wanted_ me to catch you?"

"Yes."

"You _asked_ me to?"

"I _did_."

"Dear _God_, John, I'm so _sorry_!"

"As am I, James. As am I."

James shook his head as he felt familiar lips against his cheek.

"_John…_"

"I _know_, James," he answered. "It was good while it lasted, yes?"

"_Yes…_"

"Remember me _that_ way, James. _Please!_"

"How _can_ I?"

"I never wanted to _hurt_ you. I was _scared_ to tell you the truth, but I _prayed_ that you would find out and stop me. That you would save me, save my _soul_. James, I don't know what to _say_! This is a nightmare. During the murders, I observe but do _not_ control. I _want_ to stop, _scream_ at myself to stop, but I simply _can't_!"

James reached back, feeling the pistol under his pillow and wondering whether he would be able to follow through. "Come to bed, John. You'll feel better."

"Thank you, old friend, but perhaps I should go."

"Come to bed," he repeated more firmly.

The mattress shifted and he felt John move close. Their bodies were not quite touching, but James could feel the heat pouring off John.

"My friend…"

"I _know_, James. I understand. And I am _sorry_. Beyond words."

"We _both_ have a lot to apologize for. And I'm sorry, too, John, beyond words."

John gave a laugh that deteriorated into a sob.

"Oh, John. _John…_" James drew him into a hug, holding him close. "You're you again and that changes _everything_. We can _help_ you! Why come to _me_ and not to Helen? She can make you _well_!"

"How could I face her again after our last meeting? I'm assuming she told you the details?"

"She did. She told me _and _the Yard. We _both_ told them things about you that only a lover could. You _have_ to leave Britain, John."

"Just like that?" he asked. "Without _paying_ for my crimes?"

"Your crimes were not your own! The Source Blood _forced_ these actions upon you. The John Druitt Helen and I knew and loved would never have _dreamed_ of doing the things the John Druitt who has taken the Source Blood did! I don't _know_ whether you're really still in there, John. _All_ I know is that you deserve a second chance. Swear to me that there will be no more killings and I'll let you go!"

"But how could you ever trust my word?"

"I shouldn't and I know it, but I _will_…"

"I'm losing my taste for the sport, old boy," John murmured.

"You _swear_?"

"I _do_."

"Thank God, John. Helen and Gregory and I can _help_ you."

"No."

"_Yes_, John."

"I am _beyond_ help. When these fits take me… The _only_ thing I can do for any of you is to _vanish_, go somewhere where there's no one to hurt until the rage passes."

"John, Greg thinks he can _help_."

"Gregory is _wrong_. There _is_ no help for me anymore. I'm _beyond_ help."

"You don't _know_ that, John."

"Yet I have my suspicions."

"At least let us _try_."

"I _can't_ James. I need to _go_."

"Stay," James answered, grabbing his arms. "Let us _help_ you."

"James," John sighed, sniffling hard. "Tell Helen I'm sorry, yes?"

"Of _course_."

"Tell her I _tried_ to be the man she was going to make me. Tell her I would have done. _Anything_ to be that person! _**Anything!**_ Tell her?"

"Of course."

"Thank you, James."

He caught his breath. "I love you, John."

John hitched a breath, then caught James in a rough hug. "Old friend…"

James clung to John tightly like a shipwreck victim adrift in a storm and clinging to a life-preserver. "I know, John. I _do_."

"Tell me," John began, but faltered. "If you could find it in your heart to tell me…" He sighed. "I'm sorry. _I_ can't even say it. How I should expect _you_ to be able…"

James broke the hug, but only to bring his hands up to cradle John's face. "I _forgive_ you, John, I _do_. And I should think it goes without saying that I _love_ you as well."

"Thank you," he whispered. "When we started this, I _never_ expected love to become part of the equation."

"_None_ of us did. If we'd suspected, we wouldn't have allowed it to happen."

"No," John agreed, sighing softly. "I never told you, and I _should_ have. You were never _second_ to Helen in my love, merely _different_ from her."

He closed his eyes as his heart finally finished breaking. "There's a pistol under my pillow. I was going to try to force you to agree to treatment."

"And now your resolve wavers?" Another sigh. "The worst part for me, James, is that you'll never know. You'll always doubt. You'll convince yourself that coming to you here tonight was a _game_ rather than an honest attempt at an apology."

"_Is_ it? Another game?"

"No, but that's not what you'll tell yourself and, for _that_, I am sorry beyond words."

Afterwards, James was never sure which of them initiated the kiss, or whether they _both_ had, but it was a kiss he was never to forget. It lacked anything resembling passion and conveyed what words could not. Mutual love, anger, betrayal, _profound_ sorrow, the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again. The knowledge that they would never stop loving each other. The knowledge that neither would ever stop loving _Helen_. A promise to each let the other go his own way from now on.

The last was the hardest for James, on more levels than one. He loved John. He _hated_ John. He wanted to help John and he wanted John to suffer for his crimes. The only thing he did _not_ want was to let John go. _Ever_.

He would never know if John felt the same way because, the kiss still burning on James' lips, the other man was _gone_.

Drawing a deep breath and resisting the urge to weep like a child, James sat up, leaning against the headboard and drawing his knees to his chest. He needed to _**think**_.

Normally in a situation like this, he would have gone to John, a man who had _always_ understood the way his mind worked. And, while she understood the way his mind worked, he could _not_ go to Helen. She was in too much pain as it was.

Which left Gregory Magnus, a man who James had respected tremendously for _years_ before they ever met. A man who was pragmatic enough to see the truth.

0101010

Gregory left Helen's bedside when James was announced, making a maid who understood the situation stay with her instead.

"I knew you were _close_," Gregory told James, passing him a snifter of brandy and sitting down. "Why keep the fact that you were lovers from me?"

Their shared love of the Classics made Gregory more accepting of such relationships than most, but he still looked irritated.

"To protect Helen, mostly."

"Helen has _never_ needed or wanted any man to protect her."

"I hadn't noticed…"

Gregory laughed and shook his head. "But she _did_ know?"

"_That_ would be where the trying to protect her comes into things."

He stared. "It was her idea?"

James shrugged, shooting him an apologetic look.

Gregory shook his head. "_That woman._"

"She thinks of everything. It was a practical arrangement."

"John, presumably, being incapable of keeping off other men entirely?"

"Essentially," James agreed. "And Helen knows how I feel about the Greeks and Romans. She knew the approach wouldn't be offensive to me even if I _were_ to decline."

"Which you _didn't_."

"I was _curious_, surprised to actually _enjoy_ it." He shrugged. "I make no apologies, Greg."

"Nor should you, son. I'm sure the three of you knew what you were at."

"My only mistake was falling in love."

"_Just_ with John?"

He looked away, unable to take Gregory's penetrating gaze just then.

"I thought so."

Now it was James' turn to stare. "You _knew_?"

"I'm hardly in _your_ league, but I'm a moderately intelligent man. You should marry her."

"An offer she has now declined _twice_ over the course of our friendship."

"That's a real shame. I think you could have made her very happy. Or at least helped her begin to heal."

"I don't think either of us will _ever_ heal, Greg," he sighed. "There are too many wounds. Hurt and betrayal, yes, but also guilt. This is our fault, Helen's and mine. And now it's down to us to pick up the pieces."

"I can't help but wondering what Nikola wondered the night you and Helen told us about John. Do you have the _stomach_ for it?"

He shook his head. "Nor, frankly, is John currently my greatest concern."

"_What_, then?"

"Keeping the other members of the Five safe from what befell him."

"Ah." Gregory nodded his understanding. "What would you suggest?"

"Well, I will keep careful tabs on the others, Greg, but I'm going to need someone to keep tabs on _me_ as well."

"That makes good sense. Do you plan on telling the others?"

He shook his head. "It would just upset Helen and Nigel and make Nikola contrary."

"Valid points."

"In the meantime, perhaps we should start researching possible methods of purifying our bodies? If it means I don't end up like poor John, I'm _more_ than happy to relinquish my newfound intelligence. I imagine the others will feel the same but, in the meantime, we should probably keep this research between the two of us."

"Yes," Gregory agreed. "A machine, perhaps, to purify the blood?"

"Assuming it's only _in_ the blood this long after injection. Purifying the blood is a start, but _only_ a start."

Gregory drained his glass and rose. "Let's go down to my lab and start brainstorming, James. We have a long night ahead of us."

"A long _night_?" James answered, shaking his head. "No, Greg. Long months, long years. Long _decades_ in all likelihood."

"You really believe that?"

"In my heart of hearts? I _know_ this nightmare is only beginning, and I don't just mean the possibility of another one of us turning into a monster. John's specter will haunt all of us for a _long_ time."

Gregory regarded him thoughtfully. "You still speak of him with love."

"Yes," James agreed. "How do you _stop_ loving a person who's meant so much to you. Besides, once, _very_ long ago, I read that there is no love without forgiveness and no forgiveness without love. I _have_ to forgive John because I love him. And I have to continue loving him because I have forgiven him."

"That's considerably more circular than your usual logic, James."

"True, Greg," he sighed. "But not even _**I**_ can always think with my head. In this matter, I can't _help_ but think with my heart instead."

"Then this will haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Not haunt, Greg." He smiled and shook his head. "The distinction is subtle, but it's _there_. This will not _haunt_ me, Greg. It will _torture_ me…"

**The End**

(Justifications below if you need them. E-mail or PM me if there's something not listed here that you would like me to justify. Seriously, method to my madness.)

Here are a few of my reasons for various elements of the fic, but not _all_ of them by any means. PM me if you want to know why I did anything I don't explain here because, I assure you, there really _is_ a method to my madness:

1) The literary Sherlock Holmes used both cocaine and morphine.

2) In "The Adventure of the Devil's Foot" Holmes states definitively that he has never loved a woman. (I know, I know. Irene Adler, right? _Wrong_. In the literary Watson's words "It was not that he held any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler." Holmes admired Adler for being smarter than he was, kind of hearkens to Sanctuary!Watson's feelings towards Magnus, imo.)

3) In Sanctuary, Watson states that he has a great passion for the Classics. In Victorian England this sometimes translated itself into a willingness to experiment with homosexuality.

4) The historical Montague John Druitt, while a barrister, was also a schoolmaster from 1881 until shortly before his death in 1888.

5) The historical Druitt was suspected of being a practicing homosexual, which may have led to his dismissal from the school where he worked. He also had a family history of mental illness and his death was considered a suicide.

6) Druitt was named a suspect in the first place based on "private information" provided by an unnamed source or sources.

7) DI Frederick Abberline flatly dismissed the idea that Druitt might be a serious suspect. But if Magnus and Watson _told_ him, that means he railroaded Chapman just to be able to call the case "closed". Assistant Chief Constable Sir Melville Macnaghten always considered Druitt their prime suspect.

8) Tesla's an ass in the fic because he was an ass in the show. *shrug*

9) Nigel Griffin is portrayed as somewhat flaky because the literary Invisible Man was _very_ emotionally erratic.

10) Homosexuality was illegal during this time but not particularly uncommon, both because of the widespread embracing of Classical Greek and Roman ideals and because of the rigid gender-divide inherent in Victorian society. Anthropologists and sociologists claim situational homosexuality increases _drastically_ in societies where men and women are consistently isolated from each other.

11) Oh, and I'm going on the supposition that Druitt was a patient of Magnus _before_ he joined the Five. Magnus tells Will that he was her first patient, which could have been a lie because she didn't want him knowing about the experiment with the Source Blood. _However_, in a flashback in "Kush" he tells her that he's spent his "entire life, lost in a void, afraid of who I am. Of _what_ I am. If not for you, I fear I would have remained lost. Instead I can now see that I am neither a freak of nature nor a devil." To me that pretty strongly suggests a preexisting abnormality.

12) Also working on the assumption that Tesla was also already an abnormal. For one thing, he never attended Oxford so he probably didn't meet the other members of the Five that way. Legend has it that Nikola Tesla was born at midnight during a particularly violent lightening-storm. And, when Watson mentions Tesla's powers in "Revelations Part 1", he says them as if they're two different things. "One, he had the powers of an ancient vampire. Two, he fell asleep in Edison's electric chair at full-current." If the electricity thing where a vampire thing, I don't think he would have mentioned it separately.

13) It goes without saying that, if Watson and Druitt _had_ a relationship, a smart woman like Magnus would have known about it.


End file.
